


You've Gotta Be Kidding Me

by BlaiddDrwg1982



Series: Crossing Paths [1]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, MCU/Teen Wolf Crossover, More tags will come, POV Derek Hale, POV Jessica Jones, POV Stiles, Stiles Stilinski in Trouble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddDrwg1982/pseuds/BlaiddDrwg1982
Summary: 8 million stories in the naked city, or some shit like that.When the west coast's favourite married couple from Beacon Hills decides to honeymoon in the Big Apple, it's only a matter of time before one of them lands in trouble.With few options about who to turn to and time likely of the essence, help comes with a fifth of whiskey.





	1. In The Beginning - Jessica

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightselphie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightselphie/gifts).



> Idle thoughts lead to interesting stories. Here's hoping it goes well. :-)
> 
> I own none of these characters. Please don't sue.

Jessica

There’s 8 million stories in the naked city, or some shit like that. From what I’ve seen it’s usually a few variations on the same story, re-cast with different actors, and played out over and over again.

Boy meets girl. Boy marries girl. Boy meets secretary. Boy bangs secretary. Boy buys secretary expensive present. Wife sees missing money. Wife hires me. 

Or the other way around.

Sometimes it’s even the pool boy and the husband.

Variety is the spice of life, but give me a break. If you’re going to do that, why fucking bother. But it keeps me in business when I’m not getting dragged into bizarre shit and fighting off Midtown Ninjas and blowing up buildings for kicks. 

I never asked for any of this, and the fact I have to fight off mind controlling assholes or people looking for immortality, between having to pay my rent, patch bullet holes in my wall, and keep myself in the shitty whiskey is starting to really piss me off.

I say “starting.”

I’m getting more selective in my clientele as a result. I’ll take the “Click and Go” jobs for the victims of the cheaters. It’s easy enough money and most are willing to pay half up front. It’s usually enough to cover my expenses if they don’t pay the rest. A lesson I learned slowly, but it finally got through my thick skull. I’ll deliver subpoenas for the cash up front. I’ll even take the cases the Malcolm screens for me from time to time. 

But after the last time someone was ‘referred’ to me I’ve been more than a bit leery about trusting them at their word.

The fact this guy was sent to me by Hogarth isn’t exactly boosting his recommendation by too much either. Slightly less dangerous than just answering the phone, but with her, you never know. Probably not by too much. The brooding eyes and the permanent scowl does absolutely nothing to endear him to me at all. I’m not even sure why he’s here or why Hogarth would refer him to me. As much as I hate to say it, I’m better suited to the weird cases than the normal ones. 

It’s like I’m a shit magnet. But a shit magnet that can afford this swanky little hovel that has had murders and staged murders take place just five feet from where Mr. Tall Dark and Pissed Off is sitting.

Oh god. Even his nostrils are flaring. What gives. If this is just another dead beat coke head looking for his dealer who was probably in downtown lock up, I’m going to have to double my retainer with Hogarth’s office.

“So. Mr. Hale.”

Christ. Is that even a real name?

“What brings you in to my humble abode today.”

I’d been told before to try smiling when I ask that. I’ve seen my smile. If he's sitting there with what I’m hoping is a wad of money in his front pocket, then he doesn’t need me to make his day any worse. 

He sighs. He fucking sighs. I hate the sighers. Usually push overs, or the ones who end up breaking my window when they have their temper tantrum about their cheating…whoever.

“Ms. Jones. Ms. Hogarth recommended you personally because you have some manner of expertise in helping with less than ordinary circumstances. My husband has gone missing and I’m told you’re my best hope of being able to find him.”

A missing person’s case. From Hogarth?

“How do you know he’s missing and hasn’t just taken off?”

He raised his eyebrow. What? Like that’s supposed to impress me?

“I have my reasons and my understanding of my husband Ms. Jones. He wouldn’t cheat on me. I’d know.”

Internalizing the sigh, I do my best to keep my fact and voice neutral.

“Two Grand plus expenses. Half now half on completion. Standard retainer.”

Sliding the paper work across the desk, I grab out my note book. As useful as computers are, there are still sometimes when the old fashioned way works best. Scribbling a few notes down already. Looking up at him, expecting him to huff and puff about the fee, he calmly pulls out the wad of cash and deposits the full fee in front of me. 

Reluctantly I’m impressed. Moving the cash into my drawer, I don’t count it in front of him. Have to establish trust and all that bullshit that gets me through until it’s time for whiskey.

“What’s your husband’s name? Where did you see him last, and have you spoken to the police?”

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski. We’re in town, staying at the Four Seasons on East 57th Street in New York and we’ve been here for about two weeks. I spoke with the police this morning, before heading down to see Hogarth and seeing if I could pick up his trail.”

The fuck do you spell that?  
“The fuck do you spell that?”

Inside voice Jess. Inside voice. He’s already signed the contract. But still. Have SOME compassion.

He’s dropping huge money if he’s staying at THAT hotel for that long. Or he owns part of it. Given the age he wrote down on the paperwork, I’d guess trust fund baby.

Points to, Derek, by the looks of the squiggle on the paper work, for not snapping my head off for asking the question thought. Pulling my note book across the desk he jotted it down.

“Stiles. He goes by Stiles.”

Jotting down a few more note, he pulls out his phone to show me a few pictures of him. Indicating a few of them to send me, even I have to admit. The kid looks like the good kind of guy. A couple of their wedding pictures also get sent through.

“Do you have any idea who would want to cause you or your husband harm?”

Watching his eye brows knit was almost funny. They were bushy enough that there would be serious consideration and worry they’d knot together and not untangle. All things being equal, probably some other trust fund brat looking to play a practical joke on him. 

“Depends. How many werewolves and werewolf hunters do you see here?”

Fuck me.


	2. Unusual Business Partners - Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly confident with some decisions it would seem...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek's POV. His "voice" is a little harder to capture at times.

She didn’t believe me. Then again I guess it’s asking a bit much for anyone to actually just nod their head and agree with the existence of werewolves. Something tells me it’s the one, more than the Hunters that she doesn’t quite believe in. From what Hogarth has said, Jessica has had more than enough people after her that she wouldn’t be that surprised if there were people hunting mythological beings. 

Her scent didn’t shift much when I told her though. Her heart beat is just as steady as it was a few minutes ago, and her physical reactions are about the same as they were when she let me in the office/apartment. Granted most of her reactions can be chalked up to the whiskey that’s still in her system. But apparently that isn’t something to worry about, or so I’ve been advised, which I’m not sure if that makes me more or less apprehensive about all of this.

“Yes. Werewolves are real. So are the people who hunt us. I’m visiting from out of state and even though I’m not an Alpha, I come from a long line of powerful people who have made a few enemies as the years went by.”

Okay. Granted. Most of them were because of me and Peter. I’d love to just lay it as his feet, but I have to own my part too.

“You don’t believe me.”

She shrugged.

“I’ve seen enough shit to not judge what other people tell me. There’s a guy running around this city dressed in red and blue pyjamas and calls himself Spider Man. Downtown was destroyed by flying aliens coming from a portal in the sky. There is someone with bulletproof skin that I have coffee with on a weekly basis, and another guy who, when he thinks real hard, can make his fist glow. And he’ll tell you about it. At length. Whether you want to hear about it or not. So when you say werewolf, I just add it to the list.”

She didn’t believe me and was pretty well humouring me. Okay. Object lesson.

Pressing my hand flat on her desk, I willed my claws out. Letting the partial shift cross my face I growled low in my chest while she was looking up a few things on her computer. Snapping at her, she pushed back from the desk, startled. Pulling my hands back, there were a few gouges on her desk from the claws.

“You dick!”

Okay. That’s a first.

“You gouged my desk! That’s going on the expense list. Look. I told you I’m not judging. I’m not judging. Your husband is missing and you’re stressed out. I get that. No one looks for me for my charming personality, and you being here is a necessity that your life has brought you to. But you don’t have to destroy my shitty ass furniture to prove a point.”

She honestly looks like she’s about to hit me. And she looks a little taller than normal. For all of two seconds, then she’s back down an inch or so. Shifting back to normal I sit a little further back in the chair. 

“Is Stiles like you?”

Sighing, I can’t help but shake my head. Would things sometimes be easier if he were? Definitely. 

I wouldn’t trade him for the world as he is though.

“No. He’s human. Mostly.”  
“What do you mean mostly.”

"He was possessed by the dark spirit of a fox a few years back, called a Nogitsune. Since then he’s been pretty much fully human.”

I’m pretty sure if she rolled her eyes any harder they’d land at the back of her head. For someone who handles all manners of weirdos and whack jobs, she seems pretty set on not buying into this completely.

“He’s human. His scent is human. His durability is human.”

“Isn’t that…doesn’t that make it…”

“Perverted because I’m a werewolf?”

“I was going to say difficult because he’s more fragile.”

I can actually feel my face flushing. Where the hell did that come from.

“I need you to think about everywhere you’ve been since you landed in New York. Any places you may have doubled back to. Places that you saw that had familiar scents, or if there were any that seemed to be following you around.”

It was a tall order given that Stiles had us running around the city at a pace that left me confused as to where we were. Letting the last couple of weeks play back, it was hard to put my finger on.

“We spent a lot of time near the area where the Midland Circle was demolished. Mysterious circumstances seem to draw Stiles like a magnet. We wandered around the city. No one really followed us that I can tell, but that wouldn’t help much. This morning in our hotel I only smelled me and Stiles. And there was no exit scent of Stiles going out the door.”

I’d spent half an hour carefully scenting the hallway for him, praying to find something newer than 10 hours old. There was nothing.

“I don’t suppose it will do me any good to tell you to stay in your hotel and leave this to the professionals…and me?”

Can’t help but shake my head.

“Didn’t think so. Don’t get in my way. Don’t try and play hero. This could be werewolf bullshit which if it is I will let you know and you can take care of it however you want. But there’s a lot of crap that goes down out here that could get you killed. I don’t really want to be the one to find your husband only to have to tell him that you did something incredibly stupid and got yourself killed.”

Getting to my feet when she got to hers, I let her lead me to the door. 

“That being said, if you see or think of anything just call me. I probably won’t answer. It will be a miracle if my phone is charged. But I do usually get back within a couple hours.”

If this was her idea of reassurance…

“Second door on the left. Malcolm Ducasse. He’s the one who actually will answer the phone if you call. Might want to introduce yourself. Something tells me we’ll be seeing you a lot.”

And with that, the door was closed. Then locked. And locked again. Now she’s pouring herself a large glass of Wild Turkey and…typing.

A door opened further up the hall. The one she indicated was this Malcolm guy.

“Come on down. I’ll go over the stuff Jess doesn’t bother with anymore.”

Letting my feet move me in his direction, he had a bit of a sad smile.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you really are in the best hands in New York.”

God I fucking hope so.


	3. Oh Gawd Not Again - Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a certain relaxed attitude that comes with being kidnapped every so often...

Ordinarily at this point I’d start looking around the room frantically to try and figure out my way out of here, but this time someone has tied me to the chair and covered my head. Definitely makes me wish I was just dealing with my Beacon Hills group of kidnappers. They were at least stupid enough to throw me in a room without tying me up, or leaving my head uncovered, or some kind of obvious bad idea that could only be cooked up by someone who had never even done the tiniest bit of research on what you do with someone when you don’t want them…oh say…escaping?!? 

Nope. New York had the people who by the feelings of things, probably went to weekend workshops on how to tie the perfect knot so your intended victim wouldn’t be able to do more than pull futilely at the ropes. 

The chair was even bolted to the ground. No faith man. None whatsoever.

Okay. Yes. I’d probably topple my self over and pray to the gods the chair broke and I didn’t, but still…

Calm down Stiles. You’re babbling. In your head. Because they gagged you. Bound. Gagged. Blindfolded. Can’t smell a damn thing either. The smell of ether was still there so that muted everything else out. No real memory of that. I remember going to the bathroom at night, coming back to the room and someone was crouched over Derek. His face was covered with blue powder. In hindsight, it’s probably wolfsbane to keep him from waking up. The cloth over my face was rough, but you don’t exactly get Egyptian Cotton and turn them into a rag for your ether.

Unless you’re Peter.

That was one hell of a bachelor party. 

This wan’t that. By any stretch of the imagination. For one, I’m still dressed and I didn’t come to at the feeling of my nipples getting pierced as a wedding present for Derek.   
Wait a minute. I’m actually dressed now. One does not sleep in clothing next to Derek. It would be a waste of clothes as that man did NOT like having to wait to get his hands or mouth on me. Getting distracted Stiles. Trying to not think about the fact I’m probably going to get beaten bloody or almost killed because of who I married. I mean…shit. I’m on the east coast. This is shit that’s supposed to happen on the west coast. Here it’s supposed to be Broadway shows, retracing the steps of Sex and the City, and checking out that MASSIVE hole where that brand new skyscraper had been demolished. 

This was not in the brochure.  
Shhh!

Someone’s coming.

I’m not even talking. Why am I shushing myself. Play asleep!

“We know you are awake Mr. Stilinski.”

Fuck.

“There’s no need to swear either.”

“How did you…”

The person chuckled. I’m guessing female? I’ve been wrong before. 

“I am a woman of many talents. Some good. Some not. But in the end, it is up to you to decide which talents you would like to see.”

“No offence lady, but I don’t think my husband would appreciate you showing me your talents.”

Judging by the dry chuckle, followed by a smack across the back of my head, this was not THAT kind of kidnapper. No humour.

“I do not think he would be too keen for you to see my talents either. They are a very particular set of talents that not everyone endures.”

The shuffling foot steps started to retreat, with the occasional thunk of a cane. Curious. Thought I don’t know if I find that reassuring…or fucking terrifying.

“Remove his mask and his gag. No-one will hear him scream, and he is likely to break his neck trying to throw off the mask.”

She pauses.

“He is not the most graceful.”

And the door closed, leaving me alone with her henchmen?

Not going to lie though. The mask coming off and the gag coming out were nice. There was a floor to ceiling window 10 feet in front of me, affording me a gorgeous view of the city. I know I know. Mortal terror. But if you can’t even give yourself three minutes to enjoy a view…what’s the point in trying to escape from the mortal terror.

Turning my head to get a look at the Henchmen, for the first time in a while, the saliva left my mouth and I felt the overwhelming need to run. Just…fucking…run.

Oni. Two of them. Ugly bastards to put it mildly. Pulling more furtively at the bonds, they came closer to me, and I was totally screwed. 

One of them grabbed me by the neck. I could feel the lack of substance under their body. Flash backs to the last time I’d faced them came screaming through my mind, remembering being possessed by the Nogitsune. Remembering…everything.

Feeling a searing pain flood through my neck, I knew what they’d done. I wasn’t possessed by anything. No malignant sprits. No Void Kitsune. Nothing. But I got this sense…this fuck awful sense…

They were disappointed. 

Focussing on the reflection of the glass, there was a ritual set up behind me. I’d read about them in the bestiary. I’d helped thwart a few of them. Some by accident. 

I knew a summoning ritual when I saw one though. 

Feeling the heat from the room start to fade, I don’t know if it was because of the Oni, or the thought of maybe…just maybe…I knew what they were planning.

“Oh Derek is NOT going to be pleased…”


	4. Interesting Bed Fellows - Jessica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Halloween is past us, I can get back to my other works in progress.

Pouring through the various tabloid websites was the part of this job I seemed to hate nearly the least. There was still a lot of this job I hated more, and a lot I hated less. This at least had some entertaining moments, and a few people I recognized. Trish was quite helpful when it came to setting me up with this side of the research portion of things. Something to do with being a radio host probably. Or she just had way too much time on her mind since everything has been reasonably quiet. 

Taking a sip of the Wild Turkey, and typing in a few more search parameters, I grabbed my phone and took a look. Low and behold it was actually charged and there were no messages waiting for me on it. As tempting as it was though, I know I’ll have to make a call in a few minutes to ask a few of my “Friends on the Beat” if they’d heard anything about this sort of shit. Malcolm dropped off the intake package about 15 minutes ago, and Derek had been reasonably forthcoming.

“He’s almost as tight lipped as you are.”

I don’t know if he was complimenting Derek or insulting me.   
Whatever. I already hid the soda and fruit cups for the next time he stopped in. 

Yes. I’m petty. What can I say. You don’t make friends with me and not expect me to be a bit of a bitch from time to time. Most of the time. Look. I’m not judging you alright? 

The buzzing of the phone has to be more annoying than the actual RINGING of the phone. Checking the caller ID and rolling my eyes, I hit the green button even though I want to set fire to my apartment and leave my phone on the desk covered in gasoline and dynamite. 

“What do you want Foggy.”

Hogarth wasn’t even making the phone calls herself anymore, though that’s probably because I won’t answer her, but I can’t help but feel like a total bitch if I ignore Foggy’s calls. It’s like stepping on the paw of a dog that’s already been kicked.

“Oh good. You’ll answer the phone calls from my employees but won’t actually answer the calls from the woman who gives you money in exchange for services rendered.”

Well looks like I’ll be ignoring Foggy’s calls going forward too. 

“Hello to you too Hogarth. To what do I owe this displeasure?”

“Derek Hale. Has he been by?”

Well that’s interesting. Normally she doesn’t give a rats ass if her referrals show up or not. Not lately at any rate.

“If he has?”

“I need to make sure you give his case top priority Jessica. All your focus. All your time. If you have other cases I’ll pay the fee for someone else to take over.”

Very interesting.

“What gives? You don’t usually give this kind of shit about anything unless it serves you someway. Derek have some kind of black mail on you?”

She’s quiet. She’s actually thinking about her answer. I’d find it endearing…if I found anything endearing. And if she wasn’t a manipulative bitch. 

“He’s…an old family friend. Actually he’s the son of an old family friend and I owe them. Big.”

“How big.”  
“Jessica…”  
“No. If I’m going to put everything else on hold or hand them over to a different PI I need to know Jeri. What the fuck do you owe that you’re willing to pay that kind of money to have me, of all people, leading this investigation.”

“Talia Hale paid for me to go through law school.”

“I thought the Rands…”

“No. They picked up everything afterwards. Derek’s mother covered the bill so I could go to a top tier school and make something of myself. Aside from some dealings with her brother, I don’t do much for them because almost the entire family died in a fire in California. Now. Derek needs help and I need to know-“

“What about Wendy?”

“We were poor Jessica. She turned down a lot and Talia worked in the background to help her out too. Jessica…”

There was her warning tone. I wasn’t going to get any more out of her than that, but what I’d heard was enough. Jeri wasn’t always heartless. Just lately she was. But she had an odd sort of sentimentality. Danny Rand for one. Apparently Derek Hale for another. 

“He’s my only case right now. He seems like a nice enough guy, and the pictures of his him and his husband are almost enough to make me believe that some of us fucked up people might actually have a chance at love.”

“Now you’re being sarcastic.”

“Now you’re paying attention. Hale’s fine by me Hogarth. I’ll take care of him.”

The bitch of it is that I mean it too. I may not believe in the white knight and happily ever after layers of bullshit that others might, but I’ve also seen and done too much to not think that other people deserve some piece of happiness where it can be found. And if Derek’s happiness is about 140 pounds soaking wet, I owe it to him to try and at least find him. Fucking help me, let him be alive.

“If you need anything.”

“Don’t start getting mushy on my now Hogarth. You have a reputation to maintain.”

Then I find the red button and hit it, only for the fucking thing to start vibrating again. The petty part of my wants to through it through the wall. The horny part wants to sit on it and hope they call back a few more times. Instead, I hit the green button.

“What the fuck do you want now.”

“Well I was hoping to be able to talk.”  
Shit. It was Matt. 

“Sorry. Hogarth ambushed me using Foggy’s phone.”

Of course the bastard chuckles.

“That explains why he can’t find his phone.”

Shaking my head. Not what I need right now. Giving him a quick run down of the current situation, I can actually hear him thinking through the phone.

“Werewolves? Honestly?”

“Says the man who was found hidden in the skull of a dragon while his dead ex-girlfriend’s body was not found amongst the rest of the skeleton numerous stories below ground after we blew up the building that was directly above his head.”

Quiet. I got him on that one. I think he occasionally forgot about the fact that our lives definitely were NOT normal lives. 

“You have a point. I’ll keep my ears open and if I hear anything I’ll let you know?”

“Let Danny and Luke know too if you see them.”

“Har har.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

There was a pregnant pause in his response. Whatever the fuck a pregnant pause was.

“I can be in the neighbourhood shortly if you’d like to…”

“Is this seriously what I think it is?”

“I’ve had a few drinks.”

“So have I.”

I can almost hear him start to sweat.

“So…”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

I’m weak. He has a nice body. What can I say?”

“Love you.”

I can say anything but that.


End file.
